


And The Pig Brought Fire

by geminisyrup



Category: DreamSMP, SMPLive, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst with a Happy Ending, BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Ew, Fantasy, Friendship, Gen, Kidnapping, Light Angst, Magic, Nature Magic, No Smut, Non-Graphic Violence, References to Aztec Religion & Lore, Tags May Change, Temporary Character Death, We love him anyway, but like... fun, no evil au, no evil au?, tubbo is a mess, yall are gross
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:47:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26716999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geminisyrup/pseuds/geminisyrup
Summary: When Technoblade sacrificed his life and the Trio gave up their senses, they saved humanity from the Ender Breath's deathly sleep. But now it's back, being controlled by a new force going by the name "Jschlatt." Wilbur, Niki, Tommy, Tubbo, Philza, Fundy, George, and Sapnap have to search for this new villian, all the while dealing with tension among the towns between them and an old friend showing back up.MCYT No Evil AU anyone?
Relationships: ew no
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	1. Wayfaring Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, if you like this fic pls watch the original by Betsy Lee! :)
> 
> Note: I'm changing some of the worldbuilding in the first few chapters, so if things seem different that's why. I felt that it seemed less like a AU but more like a rewriting, so I'm making it more minecraft-y as to not infringe. Thanks for reading!

A boy’s voice ripped through the air, the sheer sound russiling the grasslands foliage. “Cry,” the ear piercing sound of iron hitting stone is magnified by the mountain range, able to be heard from miles away. “I made you cry.” The boy let it ring and fizzle away before letting out a harsh sigh.

“Isn’t that a different song than your other one?”

“Yeah, I just don’t know what it does.” Tommy rolled up the crumpled papers in his hand. “Twitch Prime’s trident was supposed to break the portal frames that the black ick came out of. I thought it might scare it away.” Tubbo nodded in understanding, his eyes meeting the collapsed body.

“Thank Techno that we were able to find George before things got too out of hand.” In front of them George’s fainted body is shrewd out. His legs are completely encased in the Ender Breath, going all the way up to his face.

“Let’s go see if Philza’s found anything.”

Philza’s treehouse is settled harmoniously atop a redwood tree. Tubbo takes a moment to take in its beauty before following Tommy up. Being mid-autumn, the leaves are bright red contrasting against the almost green-ish hue of the treehouse. With the stream running just behind, it looks like one of the many watercolor paintings on Wilbur’s kitchen wall.

“Hey, you find anything Phil?” Phil’s workbench is shrewd with papers, the same messy handwriting that’s on Tommy’s papers Tubbo notes. Phil is hunched over, his face lit by candlelight with his back facing the door. There’s a half filled cup of coffee next to him with worn dull quills. 

“This can’t be possible. No one should be susceptible to the Ender Breath’s sleeping sickness.”

“George’s asleep. Ergo possible.” Tommy makes himself at home by plopping down on a quilted pillow on the floor. Tubbo sits down reluctantly, not wanting to be awkward. 

“No,” Phil turns towards them. “It was a perfect trade. When Skeppy, Badboyhalo, and A6d traded their senses and Technoblade traded his life, the blackness was sealed away.” Phil stood up, “if it wasn’t an incontrovertible contract, we’d all be anesthetized by the Ender Breath at this very moment.”

“Maybe not all of it was sealed.” Tubbo buts in.

“No, it’s one entity. All parts of it must follow the rules that were put upon it.”

“Maybe this part doesn’t know that.”

“It doesn’t know?” Phil smiled in mockery of Tubbo’s comment. “It doesn’t know, Hah! It doesn’t know!” He laughed.

“Shut up, that was barely a joke.” Tommy comes in what he thinks is the defence of his friend.

“No, that has to be it! It doesn’t know that it needs to be following a certain set of rules. We have to find a way to tell it.” Phil hunches over to look at his notes, looking manic.

Tommy scoffs, “oh yeah! Let’s start a conversation with it.” He jests.

“That won’t be good enough, this needs some doing.” Phil starts picking at his quills to put in his bag, “we need to go to Wilbur’s house.”

Light steam rolled from the chimney of Wilbur’s cottage sized loft. The dead roots of vines crawl up the side of the wooden paneling, carefully snipped on the window panes. The wood is rotted and dark near the stone chimney, grass taking shelter in the exposed holes. Plump orange pumpkins that go up to Tommy’s knees are all throughout the garden, lying on the corpses of early harvested squash plants.

Inside, Sapnap’s crying like a third time divorcee at her mysteriously missing husband’s funeral. Niki carefully shifts the wood in the fireplace using her bare hands, adding a tiny fourth of a log to the corner. She focuses on the flame eating the fresh cedar, her face tensing up everytime Sapnap raises his voice. Wilbur sits on his mattress surrounded by yarn, his specs resting on the edge of his nose. His hands are working with knitting needles, his movements getting more and more violent as Sapnap performily cries. 

“Sapnap, you shouldn’t have forced those boys into that stupid footrace.” 

“Don’t you think I know that now?” He scowls, rubbing his eyes with his handkerchief.

“He isn’t dead,” Wilbur lays his needles in his lap, mindfully putting his glasses beside him. “Everyone is trying to find a way to wake him up ‘cept you.”

“What am I supposed to do? I’m only good at getting people to do things, and look at where that put us.” Wilbur stares fiscally unimpressed. Tommy slides the window besides Wilbur open.

“Are you here to steal my food or my sanity today?”

“We might take a quilt if you got one.” Tubbo pokes his head in.

“Oh you know we just borrow stuff.” Tommy peaks up over Tubbo’s head. 

“So what happened to my pumpkin and scarecrow?”

Tommy stared blankly. “They uh, walked away.” Tubbo smiled while Phil looked away.

“I commonly worry about the lack of creativity these days, thank goodness I got you three.”

“I was against it from the beginning!” Philza leaned into the room between Tubbo and Tommy.

“You started this Phil.” Wilbur hunched his neck forward. “These two would’ve never got into that stupid race if you weren’t bothering a man who was obviously busy with someone else.” Niki took the kettle off the stove, pouring Sapnap a cup of freshly brewed mushroom tea, who looked like he would rather be anywhere else. Tubbo, of course, asked for a cup while the others bickered.

“Sapnap should share his skills with someone more knowledgeable.” Phil tapered off.

“Sapnap should hangout with anyone he likes, and George ain’t stupid. He’s just quiet.”

“He’s really quiet now.” Tommy rejects a cup.

“Nevermind that, do you have any quilts with this pattern?” Phil digs through his bag and pulls out a rolled up piece of paper, handing it to Wilbur who looks at it quizzingly. 

“I got the starts for it.”

“Good! Do it, if you excuse us we need to find a rather large egg.” The trio disappear behind the garden fence, Tubbo leaving the half full teacup on the windowsill.

“Oh my Twitch Prime…”

Niki grabs the discarded cup and closes the window. “The little love triangle is kinda cute.”

“It’s not a love triangle. It’s a love line segment with one very ambitious point.” Wilbur cuts the yarn from his now discarded project. “He’s not thinking ahead either. It looks like he’s trying to recreate what Techno did but in miniature. That needs a shaman, or three.” He places the rolled out paper on the kitchen counter. “There’s only one person in any stretch of the definition that could be considered a shaman here.”

“Might be easier to just ask George to wake up.”

“Sapnap, you’re good at getting people to do things. Go get Fundy to meet us where George is passed out.”

“But he doesn’t-!”

“Niki and I have to make a quilt, go do it.”

The night hangs heavy over the field, flashes from lightning bugs in the corner of your eye, crickets loud enough to mistake for coyote howls. Niki could trace the constellations in the sky with her finger. Andromeda carried over them, almost blanketing the land ahead. Niki crossed her arms, bile rising in her throat. Wilbur unrolled the quilt in his hands, lying it over George’s sleeping body. He made sure to keep his distance. “He’s barely breathing. We are almost too late.”

Across from them, a boy pinched the edge of the quilt. He sat inches away from the body. Wilbur gasped and Niki pulled out her mini axe off her belt. “You’re that zombie boy that Phil was talking about.”

“Did you make this?”

“I did.”

“It’s pretty.” The boy stood up.

“Thank y’.” Wilbur scrunched his mouth up.

Behind the two, Tubbo’s voice echoed through the field. “Wilbur! Wilbur!” They turned away from George and the boy, watching the trio carry various miscellaneous items up the hill. When Wilbur glanced back, the boy was gone. “Wilbur we got the eggs.” Tubbo shoves the shallow basket in Wilbur’s face, the other’s eyes stuck on the empty spot.

Tommy almost scoffed aloud when he saw what Wilbur was wearing. A floral turtleneck blouse that goes all the way up his neck, in the ugliest shades of purple he’s ever seen. He would’ve commented on it but he wasn’t dressed his best either. “So, how’s this supposed to work?”

“We gotta be able to seal the Ender Breath into these eggs.”

“Uhh, how?” Tubbo handed the eggs to Phil.

“You won’t be able to do your lil’ healing spell without a healer now will you?” Sapnap appears behind the group. He has disguised himself as Wilbur, being a shapeshifter and all. 

Wilbur crossed his arms, looking down at his shorter twin. “Well, that’s one way of doing it.” Fundy stares at the two Wilbur’s with wide eyes, frozen in place. Sapnap changes back into his normal form.

“You know he doesn’t listen to anyone except you,” he pouted. “Ah! He looks half-dead!” He turns the attention back to George. While everyone is distracted, Fundy tries to get Wilbur’s attention.

“We still need your help,” Wilbur grabs his hand.

Fundy pulls his drum out of his bag, brushing the dust off with his pointer finger. He lightly taps the center and begins at a steady rhythm. Tommy places the carved bowl at George’s head, filled halfway with water. Sapnap kneels beside him with Tubbo on the other side, the rest standing over the body.

Tubbo decides he’s gonna start. With the confidence of a bull charging towards a red ribbon, he begins singing. “I am a poor wayfaring stranger,” Tommy’s face scrunched up at Tubbo’s sour notes. “Just travelling through this world of woe.” Luckily, Wilbur jumps in to harmonize and fix Tubbo’s confidence. “Yet there’s no,”

“Sickness, toil or danger. In that fair land, to which I go.” The Ender Breath rings, crawling up the wooden bowl. “I’m goin’ home, to see my father. I’m going home, no more to roam.”

Fundy looks up to Niki and she kneels down next to him. He hands her the drum and Niki takes a few moments to find the rhythm again. Fundy grabs the egg and hangs it over George’s head, drawing an invisible line over his body.

“I’m only going over to Jordan,” he cracks the egg in the bowl, “I’m only goin’ over home.” The black ick filled bowl turned a bright orange, shining in the dullness of night. The light takes shape, a boar soaring above the group. Sapnap stared with wide eyes, Phil squinting at the brightness. “I know dark clouds,” 

Tommy decides he’s going to join in, singing a third part. “Ain’t no grave gonna hold my body down.”

“Will gather round me. I know my way is rough and steep.”

“Ain’t no grave gonna pull my body down.” The boar twinkles and dances around, swirling around Tubbo’s head. “When I hear that trumpet sound,”

“But, beauteous fields, lie just before me.”

“Gonna’ get up outta the ground.” The boar dives into the quilt, the borders lighting up a bright golden color.

“Where weary eyes, no more will weap,”

“Ain’t no grave gon’ hold my body down.”

“I’m goin’ home,” the Ender Breath turns a bright gold. It starts to float off the ground, dancing in the air. Phil has to duck to avoid being hit, “to see my mother.”

“Meet me, mother and father.”

“She said she’d meet me when I come.”

“Meet me on the river road.” Fundy lifts the bowl over his head, the lifted ick flowing into it. 

“I’m only going over to Jordan,” Fundy places the bowl to the soil as the rest is sealed, so as not to be burned by it. “I’m only going over home.”

“Ain’t no grave gonna hold my body down.” 

George lies limp on the ground, Niki puts the drum down and folds her hands. No one says a word. Sapnap puts a hand on his head, fingers lightly twitching. George cranes his shoulders back as he lifts himself up on his elbows, wiping his face. “So, did I win?” Sapnap pulls him into a hug and mutters apologies.

“Alright!” Tommy, Tubbo, and Niki celebrate while Fundy scrambles away from a hug. Philza and Wilbur hang behind. “You need to watch where you're going.”

Phil pulls his vest tighter, “I’m going to bed.”

“Philza,” Wilbur puts a hand on his shoulder, “thanks for figuring this out.” Phil nods, walking home alone from the rest. Wilbur relights his lantern to escort everyone home, noticing Fundy has already gone ahead, leaving them with the black ick filled bowl to take care of.


	2. Three for a Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niki and Philza centered fic for the soul.

Pellets of rain echo through the wood panel roof. The window’s rattle replicates one of a rattlesnake. Philza’s awoken with a startle, something breaking his window open. He yells out, staring like a deer in headlights at the bird on his carpet. Waiting for the bird to fly back out, he crawls off his bed and to the window. He checks twice that it’s locked before sitting back down. A bird through the window? “That’s a bad omen.”

Phil had a pit in his stomach. He needed to tell someone about this. He shuffled down his treehouse ladder, checking his hands for any splinters. The feeling of the damp grass bled through his soles. He pulled down his pastel blue shirt as a gust of cold wind blew by. The air smelled of sweetwater and rotted wood as he walked downstream to Tommy’s boat house.

He pulled the worn-down velvety curtain to the side, rushing in for shelter from the storm. Tommy lay on a pile of straw, covering himself up in what looks like a wall tapestry. Phil questions why he didn’t let Tommy sleep inside. When a snore as loud as a train whistle ripped the air, he's reminded why. He lightly shakes his shoulder, “Tommyinnit!”

“Ah!” Tommy flung up into a slunched sit.

“A bird flew through my window.”

“Eh?”

“One for sorrow, it’s an awful omen.” Phil pulled at the curtain, making sure it’s closed all the way. “Something bad is going to happen.” 

Tommy lets out a long sigh. “Birds just fly where they want to.”

“Of course it’s an omen.” He crossed his arms. “What’s the likelihood of a bird flying through my specific window in the dead of night? Birds are sleeping at night. And since that’s very unlikely that means it’s extra bad. We need to prepare for the worse.” Much to Phil’s annoyance, Tommy lies back down, covering his head with his blanket. “Fine, I’ll find someone who’ll listen to me.” With that, Phil walked out. 

Fundy’s house was placed in the middle of a potato field, whether or not it was his was unknown. His house, unlike the others, was made of stone and sphere shaped. Phil admired the craftsmanship. He knocked, peeking through the window. He is met with Fundy’s face peering out, eyes wide. “Fundy, please I just-,” he slams the window shut. “Fine. Be that way.”

Philza trudged across the dirt path, now muddy because of the storm. He cursed himself for not grabbing a coat or umbrella before heading out. His thoughts are only interrupted by a ravager-pulled cart riding down his way. On top, Niki was driving. “Hey Phil, whatcha doin’ out in the rain so late?”

“Something awful is going to happen.”

“How do you know?”

“A bird flew in through my window.”

“Oh!” Niki smiled, “you’re acting crazy again.”

“I’m not crazy.”

“Here, I’ll take you to Wil’s house. He’ll know what to do about this.” Niki grabbed Phil’s arm, yanking him onto the ravager.

“I’m looking forward to the lecture.”

Niki knocked on Wilbur’s door with a childish melody. “Wil?” The door creaked open on its own, revealing an empty room. The two walked in, Niki latching the lock behind her. Wilbur’s kitchen was lit by a single candle at the end of its wick. The house smelled of winter snow and pumpkins. On the counter, a torso sized pumpkin laid half cut, surrounded by open cans. 

“What’s all this?”

“It looks like he was canning pumpkins.”

“Stopping in the middle,” Phil lifted a half filled can. “That’s irresponsible of him.”

“No,” Niki took the can out of his hand and placed it back on the counter. “That’s what a real bad sign looks like. Something bad happened to Wil.” Niki opened the back door, revealing a trail of glowing orange lights leading into the forest across the meadow. Phil walked outside after Niki, breathing in the post-storm dew. Niki brought over her ravager, carefully unhooking the cart from their back. “Let’s follow the trail.”

The trail led them through the decaying flower meadow, and past the edge of the mountain range. Phil had never been through these parts, compared to Niki who had grown up here. They were led into a damp path in a darker part of the forest. The trees were bare and had been for awhile. The only light was from the glowing path and the moonlight peaking through every few feet. It smelled of red pepper and bog water. An owl sang behind them, a comfort in the darkness. “I think we’re in SMPLive Wood. We wanna be outta here as soon as possible.” Niki covered Philza with her coat. “You see, this is one of those “once you go in ya’ never come out” places.”

Phil made eye contact with three owls, all hooting at different pitches. “Three for a death.”

“Stay close, Phil.” Phil threw himself off of the ravager, sprinting off the trail. “Phil! What did I just say!” The hoots of owls and the scrampering of spiders got closer. Niki took off.

Just ahead, the crumbling remains of what may have been a prosperous town lay. The town sits among a mountain, decay taking place the most at the top. There was a single light among the muted ruin. Bats and nocturnal birds soar over the buildings, wolves scampering around on the roof. 

Wilbur sat cross legged in the middle of a concrete room, holding a cup of unidentifiable tea. The only light came from a burning skeleton in the center, who held the kettle and seemingly sentient. Wilbur placed the cup down and pulled his favorite yellow cloak close to his body. Across from him sat the zombie boy he encountered days before. “Why am I here, zombie boy?”

“My name is Connor.”

“Why am I here, Connor?”

“For tea.”

“That’s all?”

“Well, I also wanted to ask for your help.” Connor sat straight up, leaning forward. “I’m looking for a friend.” Wilbur pulled his specs up his nose, staring blankly.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m fine myself, but Schlatt really needs you.” Connor stood up, holding one of the many skulls floating around the room, petting it like you would a cat.

“Schlatt?” Wilbur’s brain tried to remember if he had heard that name before.

“He’ll be home any moment.” He pulls the kettle off the skeleton to pour himself another cup. “He’ll be so excited!” The grin on Connor’s face didn’t last. He turned towards the window as he placed the kettle on the floor. “Excuse me.”

Flying skulls swarmed around Niki, shooing them away like mosquitoes. One bites her exposed hand. She slams it against the side of her saddle. “Well aren’t you a new and exciting addition to the universe?” Niki finds herself back on the trail, her eyes trace it as it bends up the mountain. Above her, a cart is being dragged up by hand. Niki shrinks back down into the bush. The figure turns behind. “Couldn’t be,” Niki ducks down, “Dream.”

Wilbur stares into the eyes of the smoking skeleton, holding up different amounts of fingers to see if it responds. “Wilbur, Wilbur!” Phil whisper-yells through the window. Wilbur stands up.

“Philza!”

“We have to get out of here,” Phil crawls in.

“How in hell did you know that I was here?” 

“A bird flew in through my window and that is an awful omen, so I had to figure out what happened.”

“You don’t say.”

“Oh, you’re the impostor.” The door opens and Connor steps in. “Well a guest is a guest after all.” Phil steps in front of Wilbur, holding his arm out. “You look cold. Here, have a blanket.” At breakneck speed, Connor throws a limp skeleton at Phil, knocking him off his feet and taking the air out of his lungs.

Wilbur grabbed Phil’s arm, yanking him back up. “You’re the person that controls these monsters, aren’t you?” 

“Those are my friends. Your friend breaks them alot, but I suppose they did try to kill you. So, I guess that’s okay.”

Phil whispers in Wilbur’s ear. “We need to leave, now.”

“Don’t be rude, Philza. Now, Connor,” Wilbur looks back at the twitching skeleton behind them. “I’m flattered that y’all would choose me but I can’t just leave without note. Give me a few weeks to think about it.” Connor’s thousand mile stare bores into the two.

“Phil! Phil!” Niki’s calls from outside the window. Phil leans out the window to meet Niki’s glare. Wilbur sticks his head out, he doesn’t notice how hot it was in the room until he’s breathing fresh air. Just across from where Niki’s parked, a masked man stands staring up at Wilbur. Phil grabs Wilbur by the belt and throws him into Niki’s arms, leaping after him. They take off through the bush, following the trail.

A horned man steps out of the cart, holding a blindfold. “Dream, do you know these trespassers?”

“Some old friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off of episode 12 of Betsy Lee's No Evil series.


	3. Conduct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy can have 1 (one) swear word. As a treat.

A light breeze blew by the sandy mountain range, it wouldn’t be paid any mind if it wasn’t freezing out. In such a sunny place, the coldness of late autumn is often forgotten. Tommy didn’t have to worry about being cold though. He threw the ball above his head, catching it in his net and punting it towards George. George catches it in mid air, smiling and laughing at the achievement. He launches the ball towards Tubbo. He runs towards it blindly, tripping on the rocky terrain and landing on his net.

Philza is sat atop a picnic mat, hunched over and freezing. In his hands were Twitch Prime’s notes on his trident. His handwriting is messy and intelligible in places. A ball whizzes past his head and hits the rock behind him. “Tommy!”

“Time,” Tommy huffed.

“You’re supposed to be helping me with this.”

“C’mon, I’ve sung all the songs in Twitch Prime’s notes.” Tommy grabbed his trident. He struck it against his net, a sharp ringing echoing through the mountain range. “Cry, I made you cry.” He sang. The puddle next to the two rose in front of Tommy, swirling around the trident. “Cry,” he deadpanned, launching the water in Phil’s direction. “No matter what one I do, it just messes with the water in the area.”

“Why would there be four songs if it can only do one thing? Now come study his notes.”

“You do that stuff though.”

“You found it! You made the thing work! You need to figure it out.”

“If I’m supposed to figure it out,” Tommy spun the trident in his hands. “Won’t I figure it out by being me and not being you?” 

“I, guess.”

“More stick ball!”

“Would you just listen to me for once? Think about what could’ve happened to Wilbur the other night if Niki hadn’t-,” Phil sneezed. “What day is it?” 

George hums. “Sunday?”

“Sneeze on Sunday.” Phil wiped his nose with his handkerchief. “That means danger.”

“Is that really-,”

“Are we going on an adventure today?” Tommy buts in. Phil draws the attention to a large rain cloud rolling in over the town at the bottom of the hill.

“That cloud looks ominous.”

“Oh! That’s L’Manberg,” Tubbo points to the town, “we gotta go! C’mon!”

The four walked down the dirt trail, the trees all bare around them. Tommy and George dragged behind, kicking dirt at one another like schoolchildren. Phil crossed his arms, adjusting his scarf tighter around his neck as Tubbo played the “why” game with him.

“The plague?”

“No.”

“Death?”

“No.”

“Ender Breath? Zombies? Dream?” Tubbo shivered. “Zombie… Dream?”

“Tubbo, it’s L’Manberg. If there’s anything wrong, it’s DreamSMP.” Phil questioned when babysitting was added to his day to day work.

Tubbo clotheslined the three, gasping. “Harvest week!” They stood at the foot of the hill, the smell of baked beetroot and maple syrup overwhelmed them. Booths and tables lined the walkways and candles stood in every window. “I forgot it’s harvest week!” Tubbo ran ahead into the streets. The sound of people chatting and harmonica playing filled the town. Children played in the streets without fear of being run over by a ravager cart. A couple walks by the group, hands full of fresh carrots and bamboo. 

Tommy grinned at Phil. “Oh my, what terror has been wrought this day.” He walked off to find Tubbo, who had disappeared into the crowd. 

George put his hand on his shoulder. “He’ll come around.”

The two find Tommy and Tubbo talking to L’Manberg’s chief. “Tubbo! I’m so happy you're here.” The chief grins and draws the others attention to the lanterns above them. “Look at how well we’ve done. Everyone has worked so hard, and it’s really paid off.”

“What smells like bad eggs?” Tommy looked around. 

“It’s coming from that barn.” Tubbo pointed.

“Oh, that’s new. We smelt in there. Normally we go to Pogtopia for our larger tools. But since the road is so dangerous with DreamSMP around, we had to start making our own farm equipment.”

“Sir, the reason that we’re here is because we believe that L’Manberg is in danger.”

“Really? Is it immediate?”

“Well, I don’t know. I received a rather ominous message…”

“A sneeze and a cloud.” Tommy buts in.

“And we thought that we would warn you to be on the uh, lookout.” Phil scratched his neck, “DreamSMP might be up to something.”

“Oh thank you Tubbo for bringing your friends here, you’re so helpful.” The chief talked down to Tubbo, patting him on the head. “It’s very nice for y’all to look out for us. I insist you stay for dinner, on me.”

Fire crackled from outside the tent, the smell of woodsmoke and mushroom wafting through the stagnant air. Tubbo traces the hand painted pattern on the stretched out cotton. Phil stirs and picks at his stew. “So, these signs, do you see them often?”

“I suppose.”

“I think that’s a wonderful talent.” The chief wipes his mouth. “I would love to pick your brain.” 

Tommy hits his knee on the table as he stands up, silently walking out. “Excuse us,” George tapped the shoulder of the chief before following Tommy. Tommy held his trident at his side, leaning against the barn. George keeps his distance behind him, “he does mean well, y’know.” 

“Well yeah, that’s why we’re here. Isn’t it?”

George crosses his arms. “You believe him? I thought you didn’t.”

“Kind of, I don’t think DreamSMP is attacking L’Manberg,” Tommy turns towards the other, putting his weight on his elbow. “But we should probably do something about this barn full of hoglins.” 

“What?” Tommy invites George to look into the crack in the barn’s panelling. He could barely see inside the pitch black barn, but the grunts and scratching made it clear.

Back inside, Tubbo is balancing his bowl atop his head. The chief laughs and Philza stares unimpressed. “Ayo, chief.” The two walk back into the tent, Tommy holding his trident in front of him. Phil stands up to meet them.

“Tommy, these people might be attacked. This is hardly the time for-,”

“No one is attacking L’Manberg. L'Manberg is attacking DreamSMP.” Tommy leans on his trident like a cane. “Mind telling us why you have a barn full of hoglins?”

“DreamSMP is a ranching town. Hoglins eat livestock. Can’t help but think that’s why they’re there.” George adds.

“Well, they deserve it. They stole our food. And it’s not just for us. We provide agriculture for many other villages.”

“I think you’ll find sir,” Phil steps beside Tommy. “Your food is delivered on wagons pulled by DreamSMP’s ravagers. I’m afraid we can’t let you do this.”

“Yes!” Tommy grins. “We are finally on the same page!”

“Guys, where’s Tubbo?”

“Ah fuck.”

Tubbo lifts the latch off of the barn door, throwing it aside. He flings the doors open and starts running. Hoglins in the dozens rush out, knocking over stands and booths looking for food. The late-night crowds run in terror. Tubbo is lost in the herd. 

A hoglin dives at a L’Manbergian child, George jumping in between to take the blow. Tommy stands in the middle of the chaos, nealy avoiding being mowed down. “Tubbo!” Tubbo runs as fast as he can, but his leg is caught in the jaws of a hoglin. Tommy sprints towards the scene, jumping to hit the beast over the head. He is grabbed midair in the tusks of another hoglin. His trident is knocked away from him, landing yards away. George watches as it falls.

“Phil!” George calls, wrestling to avoid being stabbed by a tusk. Philza jumps into action, in the midst of the chaos he’s able to grab the discarded trident. “Tommy! I’ll throw it to you!”

“No! You use it!” Tommy slams his fists against the hoglin’s sandpaper skin. “Sing one of the songs!”

“I’m not meant to-,”

“Just do it!” Phil hesitates, lifting the trident over his head. He closed his eyes as he slammed it against the metal frame of the barn door. The ringing of the trident overrides the noise of the chaos.

“Cry,” Philza’s voice cracks. George hits the ground with a harsh thud, about to be stampeded. A townsperson hits the hoglin biting Tubbo’s leg with a broken plank. “I made you cry.” A loud thunder clap broke through the sky. A bolt of lightning hits the barn, lighting the drywood aflame. The fire from the barn is enough to startle the herd of beasts. Squealing, they fled from the town. Tubbo remains on the ground as Tommy struggles to stand up.

Phil’s jaw hangs open at the fire he caused. “Phil! Phil!” Tommy calls. He throws the boy his trident, stepping away from the suffocating woodsmoke. Tommy uses the trident as a crutch, hitting it against the stone trail. “Cry,” he raises it above his head. “I made you cry!” As the chime of the trident dies, the puttering of a downpour follows. His hair mats to his face as he watches the barn collapse into itself. Phil walks over, handing Tommy his scarf to wipe the dirt of his face. 

George limped over to a sniffling Tubbo. “What was the plan there?”

“I don’t want my town to be as bad as DreamSMP.”

“So, no plan.” Tommy slid his hand under his jacket. Blood dripped down his twitching fingers. 

The chief stomped over to the bleeding and bruised boys. “What happens when DreamSMP attacks us again?” George let Tubbo hang on his shoulder as he cried. A silent tension hung over the group.

“Eh. We’ll beat them off like we always do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all like the changes, tysm for reading!
> 
> Based off of episode 13 of No Evil.


	4. Soft Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where the plot starts to pick up. I hope y'all enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: attempted kidnapping

Winter swept the land before long. It's time for the season that burns your throat and freezes your limbs. Back when he was younger, Wilbur would go on, the colder months were the only time they were safe from the Ender Breath.

Fundy had already settled down for the colder months ahead. Clammy hands pour a cup of water over his houseplant collection. His doorknob rattled, causing him to almost drop what he was holding. When he realized it wasn’t just the wind, he placed his water cup down and started unlatching the door to his basement. A masked man stood in the doorway, the candlelight obscuring his features. “Just come with me.”

Fundy yelled out and ran out his backdoor. 

Sapnap starred as Tommy hastily cut carrots, raising his arm up all the way after every cut. As messy as his chopping was, he looked like he was genuinely trying. “Tommy, I really appreciate your help, but I still don’t know why you came over.” 

“Phil complained I was whistling too much or whatever.” Tommy started chopping the carrot leaves too. “Couldn't sleep.”

A tree branch slams against the window repeatedly. “That wind is picking up.” George notes, half asleep in the corner.

“Really,” Sapnap leaned over to close the curtain. “Prime!” He yells out. The attention is turned to the window, where a pale hand repeatedly slaps against the glass. Tommy raises his knife in alarm.

The three help Fundy inside, the boy slumping down to the floor. Tommy huffed as he sat back down on his stool. “So, what happened?”

“Dream,” Fundy happily took the blanket that Sapnap laid over him. “He broke in.”

“Well, you’re safe here.”

“I wanna get this straight. I’ve never asked because every time I would, everyone would act weird and go quiet. But now that he’s terrorizing our friends I need to know. Who the hell is Dream?” Sapnap turned towards Tommy.

“He’s an asshole.” He shrugged.

“That’s helpful.”

“Well, he was the player of DreamSMP.”

“Villages aren’t assigned players.”

“He thought he was.” Tommy grabbed the knife again, poking the tip. “He hated L’Manberg and Tubbo as much as they did. When the Ender Breath started spreading in DreamSMP, he helped. But after it was sealed, he went back to harassing L’Manberg.”

“What made him leave?”

“Wilbur did.”

“Yeah right,” Sapnap scoffed. “How did he do that?”

“I forgot,” Fundy shivered in the corner. “Somethin’ ‘bout a music disc or… He never told me.”

Sapnap poured a bowl of unfinished mushroom stew. “You’re fine Fundy.” He brought the bowl over to the other. “Eat this and relax for once.”

“There’s a lot of people here.”

“There’s four of us.”

“The more people here, the less likely that Dream will find you.” Tommy slumped over.

“Why would Dream attack Fundy?” Sapnap relit the lantern on the table. “Attacking Wilbur I get, even Tubbo I get. But Fundy?” Fundy sips his mushroom stew silently, pausing every time the wind picks up. His breathing was uneven and hitched. The sound of Tommy fidgeting with his knife, Sapnap opening and closing the lantern hatch, and George snoring was enough to drive him insane. He stood up, drawing all attention to him. He ran out the door with a slam. Tommy and Sapnap stared at each other before chasing after him.

“Good news, he will pass out before he gets far.” Tommy pulled his vest closer as snow pelted him. “The bad news is we might pass out before him.” Sapnap shivered, only dressed in his night clothes. “What did you put in that stew?”

“Fly agaric and-,”

“Was it cooked all the way?” Sapnap didn’t respond. “He got drugged up which panicked him even more.” A silhouette moved in the corner of Tommy’s eye. He grabbed Sapnap’s arm and started running towards it.

“Gah!” Sapnap fell. Tommy kept sprinting. He caught up to Fundy, who was only wearing a shirt and pants. He grabbed onto him, wrestling him to the snowy ground. Fundy’s collapsed body is blue and freezing. In the distance, a fourth figure stood watching the debacle. He trudged over to the two boys. Tommy looked up to the masked man, grabbing a sleeping Fundy and trying to run. He doesn’t get far, the man shoving the two to the ground. The man pulled the other boy over his shoulder.

“Fundy!” Tommy struggled to stand back up.

A sapling sprouts out of the snow in front of the abductor. The tree grows in seconds, grabbing the passed out boy in its branches. “Agh!” Dream yells. Atop, another man looks down at the two, grinning playfully. The masked man ran away.

Tommy walks up to the tree, pulling Fundy off the branch. “Skeppy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> srry that this ones shorter and late, gotta lot goin on rn, hope yall enjoyed


	5. Direction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyy,, how yall doinn

“Deep in the Nether’s great fortress, lodged proud in a soul sand stone, is the Enchanted Netherite Sword. If you may pull the sword from its place, you can cut through any affect or enchantment. Or even the Ender Breath. But, no player may touch it without being stung by its power, and mortals would faint in its presence. So we four sealed the Ender Breath until we could find someone who could wield the sword.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, “we already know all this!” Skeppy just stared blankly.

“What?” He turned to Phil, who translated for Tommy. He scratched the enchanted black cuffs that smothered his ears. A reminder of what he sacrificed a decade before. “Oh! I just wanted to demonstrate how terribly we are doing. Not only have we not found anyone who could possibly wield it, I’ve lost A6d. He was supposed to meet me in Pogtopia, but he never showed up. I was hoping y’all could help me find him.”

“We’ve been having some kidnapping problems over here.” Niki piped up, Wilbur translating. “Wilbur was taken to SMPLive and Dream tried to take Fundy.”

“Huh,” Skeppy crossed his arms. “Well then, leave it to me.”

“What’re you gonna do?”

“Tommy! You need to figure out how the trident works.”

“I don’t think you know what ‘leave it to me’ means.”

“I can’t hear you.” Tommy rolled his eyes.

“Why do you need the trident?” Phil signed.

“Twitch Prime had multiple enchantments on his tools. It’s hard to read his handwriting, but I know the trident can find things that are lost. It would make this whole quest so much easier if you could get that working.”

Tommy laughed sarcastically. “We’ve gotten real far. I can flood shit and Phil can fuck shit up with lightning.” Phil refused to sign such words to Skeppy.

“Wait, why didn’t you mention that four people had to use it? You were with Prime and didn’t think to mention this?” Phil accused.

“Huh? Twitch Prime never needed multiple people to use his trident. I wonder what's wrong with you Tommy.”

Wilbur interrupted. “Well, I guess it just doesn’t work like that with Tommy.” Two glaring eyes burnt into the side of his head.

“We should have everyone here try to use the trident.”

George flicked the tip of the blade, singing an off-tune note. Tommy’s slumping was interrupted by Tubbo’s entrance. “What’s going on?” He whispered.

“A6d disappeared, and apparently the trident has an enchantment to find him. We’ve been trying to figure it out.”

“Huh, well, I saw a patch of Ender Breath when I was heading up here.” Tommy perked up at the idea of doing something else.

“C’mon, let’s check that out.” Tommy and Tubbo snuck out the back.

Phil handed the trident to Wilbur. “Try the other one.” He only rolled his eyes.

“Phil we’ve been doing this over and over again and have gotten nowhere.”

“The trident obviously chose multiple people to use it’s enchantments. We need to figure out who.”

“The trident didn’t pick you, Tommy did. The trident is his, it plays to his strengths. 

“But Prime-,”

“-was a different person.” The two bickered as Skeppy stared blankly. “Tommy, why don’t you- Tommy?” Attention was drawn to the empty stool in the corner.

“That’s not good.”

Tubbo spun around. “I swear it was right here.” Tommy pushed a branch aside, revealing a glowing black mountain of Ender Breath climbing the trees. “There it is.”

“That’s a bit bigger than a ‘patch.’” Tommy stepped away. “Well, let’s look for the source. Be careful.” The crunching of snow under Tommy’s boots grounded his thoughts to reality. That, and Tubbo slipping every few moments, having to lead him like a ravager through the snow. He told him countless times this fall to get new boots. He pitied him at times. He reminded himself to grab his old ones for Tubbo’s ankles sake.

The duo found themselves back where they started, finding no source to the threat. “Huh.” Tubbo didn’t see the danger with this predicament.

“Let’s go see if Phil is done and get this checked out. Maybe he figured it out.” Tommy felt a light offense against his head.

“Kidnappings!” Sapnap yelled, hitting Tommy with his headband. Phil, Wilbur, Niki, and Skeppy followed behind, looking equally unimpressed.

“Did ya find what you were looking for?”

Wilbur thrusted the trident into Tommy’s hands. “This is yours.”

“But Phil said-”

“-it’s yours. You lent it to Phil over at L’Manburg, it does what you say.” Wilbur crossed his arms. “If there was anyone you could choose who could help us find something; who would it be?”

“Oh! Tubbo,” he handed the trident over to him.

“Never have I so immediately regretted asking something.” 

“C’mon, try it.” Tubbo stared at the object, holding it by the bladed end. He hit the handle against a rock beside him, the familiar hum ringing through the forest.

“Cry…” The tip of the handle glowed a shining gold, showing a path right in front of the group. The shimmering path landed right onto the Ender Breath mountain, lighting it up from the inside. There, the silhouette of a familiar face stood in the middle. His enchanted blindfold had been ripped off his face, causing the Ender Breath formation.

“That’s really not good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> srry this is very late


End file.
